


Peer

by Lavenderhydrangea



Series: Fallout 3/Viola Shaw [6]
Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Introspection, Light Angst, Vault 101, vault 106
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-06-07 17:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19474327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavenderhydrangea/pseuds/Lavenderhydrangea
Summary: After foraging and fighting through Vault 106 and unearthing  yet another horrendous Vault- Tec experiment, Viola finds herself reeling from one of it’s more potent aftereffects.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

It was irresponsible of Viola to go digging around Vault 106 so carelessly. There was a saying in the Wasteland that for every time you peered into someone else's past you saw glimpses of yours.You would pick though a house for extra, food, clothes—anything. and then it dawned on you that this abandoned structure with its worn wood, and dust was once lively. It had a mother, a father, a kid and maybe a dog, or maybe it was a simple couples home or a bachelor pad and there you were. Then you’d remember that time you had those things: A mother. A father. A home, even. Sometimes you remember that you can’t go back. That’s never stopped anyone from savaging of course. Survival was still king. Maybe that was why everyone out in the Waste was a little screwed up.

She wished she could say she ransacked Vault 106 for survival but for the first time in a while she had more than enough caps to stay alive. This was just pure curiosity. 

  


The walk from the the Vault was a daunting one. Though her feet moved and her finger was curled around the trigger of her shotgun, her mind felt like it was floating. Aside from Dogmeat’s whining and his rubbing against her leg, nothing could bring her back down. Not even Charon’s gruff cautioning.

  


“ What---” She tried to focus on the next few words but she was too far gone. “--Stupid.” was the only other thing she grasped.

  


He heaped more on her and unsurprisingly her attempt to understand was worse than before. He might as well had wiggled his finger on his lips.

Then there was the shift which was was something else. One moment she was burning hot and in a place between standing and floating, and in the next she was laying down with something cold pressed against ther forehead.

  


“So I’m suppose to believe a filter in a dank old vault did this?” 

  


Great, more to figure out. Who was talking? 

“Believe what you want. All I know is that I had to save that idiot from an ambush.”

  


“Ain’t that in that contract of yours?”

  


“Protecting and babysitting are professions that are close in similarity yet so far.”

  


“And she rags on me for not being careful.” The answering voice, whom she decided to call Smarty due to their wise guy tone, seemed dejected but they quickly found themselves again. **“** You said she saw something down there?”

  


Wanting to open her eyes wide, she manged a weak flutter of her lids. What light-weightiness had possessed her mentally surely missed her physically. After another attempt, she finally saw dull light.

  


“That’s a discussion for later time,” The other voice, Gruff and Grim or GG, said.

  


A blurred silhouette leaned over her. “Done with your nap, Twerp?”

  


Second by second, more of the figure became clear. The salt and pepper hair and weathered skin was right and comforting but that voice was off. It didn’t match. That didn’t stop her from seeing an off-white lab coat or the wave of relief that followed.

  


“Dad?”

  


  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The effects of vault 106 bring about a distant memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Viola remembered her dad: Calm, reassuring, and always on top of things. She remembered him trying to pry her off his leg on the first day of Kindergarten.

“Kiddo, you’ll be fine. Give it a chance.”

With her face pressed into his pant leg, she shook her head.

“You’ll meet friends there, Sweetie Don’t you want to meet friends?”

She gave another shake of her head.

“We can’t stay like this forever. You’ve got to go.”

She would’ve stayed like that forever if she could. Everyone else in the vault was so peculiar and scary. The adults would kneel down so they were face to face with her. They’d give broad smiles and something in the back of her little mind told her that they’d devour her. Even when they asked if she wanted to play with their sons or daughters she’d think it was a part of a conspiracy to get her. Vault 101 was more than just the tiny room where she and her dad lived but up until first grade it was the most like home. There wasn’t a need to go anywhere else or speak to anyone else.

“Here we are. Why don’t you try to play with some of the other children while I talk to your teacher?”

They finally made it down the hall to the schoolroom. It turned out her father was as equally as stubborn as she was. He shambled down the hall with her still clinging to his leg.  
She wasn’t going to win, so she let go and cast an anxious glance around the room. There were short and stubby tables at every corner of the room, forgotten pieces of construction paper on the floor and a pair of scissors and a bottle of glue for every kid seated.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! You can sit near me.” The girl nearly tripped from hopping up and down. “Oop!”

“Susie! Jump with those scissors again and I’ll sit you in the time out corner.”

“Sorry, Mr. Botch.”

Viola took initiative. She marched over to the empty seat which put her between Susie and another girl with a ponytail.

“I’m Susie and I’m the table captain. If you need anything you have to ask me. Mr. Botch said so.”

Viola swore she spotted the faintest eye roll from the girl to her left

“What are we doing?”

“Spell your name on paper. Cut up the paper and glue it on the black paper. My favorite color is green so I’m using green strips to spell out my name. My name is real pretty. It’s S. U. S. I. E.”

Nodding at the instruction, Viola reached for the the glue. Susie swiftly swatted her hand.

“What’d you do that for?”

“I told you. You have to ask me for stuff. I’m the table captain.” She snatched the glue off the table. “Ask me for the glue first.”

She pushed out her bottom lip and glared when Viola just stared back at her.

“It’s not your glue. It’s in my spot.”

“At my table. Ask.”

“No.”

“Ask or I’m telling Mr. Botch you’re not following the rules.”

“Tell and I’m telling him that you won’t let me write my name.”

“It’s a stupid name anyway.”

“You don’t even know my name”

“Want to use my glue?”

Viola turned to her left.

“ Mr. Botch says that we should share when we can.”

What a way of saying na na boo boo without actually saying it

Susie ran out of words then and opted to work on the rest of her name. She kept the glue. She could’ve eaten it for all Viola cared.

“What if we take turns? I cut paper for mine and then you cut for yours. “ Viola made sure she was the first to fortify their newfound alliance. Although she had helped, she couldn’t have been sure that she wouldn’t have acted out like Susie later on.

“Yeah. Turns!”

Viola peeked at the girl’s work. “So your favorite color is yellow?”

“Yup! And my name is Amata. What’s yours?”

“My name is Viola. My favorite color’s blue.”

“I don’t think your name sounds stupid.”

Viola couldn’t help the smile that her lips spread into.

“Do you want to be my friend?”

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but I like looking into a lot of my OC's past hence why this story is set up the way it is and why most of my DA;I stories take place before the main game.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The effects of Vault 106 yet another distant memory.

Amata had been an irreplaceable friend. She would always stick her neck out for her, and she would always return the favor. More importantly, she related to her differently than how she related to her dad. They deluged everything with one another, no matter how embarrassing. Even at times when one didn’t say anything out loud, the other always knew something was up.

One time Mr. Brotch decided that throughout the week, every morning each student would count from one to on hundred to prove that they’ve learned their numbers well. They were oriented in alphabetical order and as a result Amata had gone first while Viola was second to last. It was Thursday and Paul was up. And jittery. They all were at the time though no one would admit now if asked but Paul was definitely noticeable, and of course the kids were jerks (including herself) with the emotional awareness of a rock sometimes.

“You can’t count to one hundred, Paulie?”

The mortification spread quick on his face at the accusation. “Yes, I can.”

His frustration was met with snickers. Butch prodded. “Then what comes after fifty, huh?”

With a bob of his throat he hesitantly went on. “Fifty-one, Fifty-two, Fif--”

“--twelve, twenty-eight, fifty-four, thirty.” Butch hollered over him. Wally joined in. Paul’s tongue halted.

She and Amata sat on the left of the room at table number 4. She hadn’t any desire to pick on Paul but he was taking forever. Mr. Brotch had to have seen everything. Why hadn’t he stopped this? Couldn’t he make him sit and make him try another time?

“Fingers to your lips. Fingers to your lips.” Mr. Brotch shouted, following through with his own orders thereafter.

“Butch laughed. “ Maybe he should do that huh, Mr. Brotch?”

“ You are working my very last nerve.”

His focus on Butch wrenched his attention from the rest of the class. The room fell into a frenzy of number-shouting and Paul trying to push through all of it.

“Fifty-four, fifty-five.” He stammered and stalled.

Amata shouted beside her. “ Eight, twelve ,twenty-six, Seventy-six.”

Paul repeated himself. Sure, he was suffering but the room was filled with laughs. Everyone was doing it.

“Sixty-seven, Forty-five, twenty-one.” Viola continued.

Paul looked her in the eye, pained. Viola stopped in the middle of thirty-nine.

“Come on. Keep going.” Amata urged her on.

Viola nudged her and pointed in Paul’s direction with her chin.

“He doesn’t look too good,” She conceded, “but if Mr. Botch can’t stop it we can either.”

Mr. Botch looked as if he were resisting the urge to choke Butch. “Deloria...”

"You should be thanking me Mr. Botch. I woke everybody up. Paul had us droolin’”

“My classroom is not a stage for your interruptions. Some of your classmates would like to learn something.”

“I bet Paul isn’t one of them.” His laugh came out in a snort. “He can’t count to one hundred.”

“At least he knows how to tell time.”

“Shaw!”

“What was that you, dweeb?”

“You hear me. You can’t tell time. You probably don’t know what time it is now!”

The smug superiority was immediately wiped off his face. “That’s got nothing to do with anything.”

“Ha! He really can’t tell time.” Amata hollered

This provoked a fresh uproar. People who were once carrying on with Butch were now piling on him. Of course he wasn’t going to have any of that, so he charged into her full force, knocking her to the floor. He’d managed to grip her by shoulders and smack her head against the ground some before she grabbed his wrist to prevent another onslaught. She got him back with some kicks to the stomach and given a winded groan and some stiffening from him, probably his crotch too.  


Mr. Botch had yanked them apart before any further damage was dealt. The following week she and Butch were instructed to write an apology letter to each other and to read them in front of the whole class. Butch read his with an unmistakable fury in his eyes, which she took as a sign that they’d become sworn enemies. More important than that Butch had to write that letter and one for Paul, who’d unexpectedly accepted it and also wanted to talk to her during free time.  
He hesitated at first. She had been as equally apart of the bullying as she was in his rescue.

“Thanks, Viola.”

“You’re welcome.” She said sheepishly. “I’m sorry about...”

“It’s all right.” He looked at his pile of comic books on his desk. He liked to read during free time. “Want one? You can take the Grognak one. He’s not really my favorite but I heard you like him.”

Later on, Amata could barely contain her amazement when Viola showed her the comic.

“ He said you could have it ? Like, have it have it?”

“Yeah. For the other day.”

She paused for a bit then smiled. “ You did do good that day.”

“You helped.”

“So since I helped does that mean that I take a peek?”

After that ordeal it was without question that Viola developed the softest of soft spots for Paul. Even as he went on to join a troublesome trio consisting of, Him, Wally and Butch, she still took her time to talk to him. In fact she would bypass the others to talk to him first much to their chagrin.

Paul was good in her book.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The effects of Vault 106 brings about a question and a revelation.

Paul Hannon was just below odd when it came to social ranking. A constant target of bullying, Paul maintained a unyielding optimism and even went on to gain a sense admiration for one of his main detractors, Butch Deloria. It made no sense even when he did try to convince her of his supposed greatness. He was really cool, he claimed. No one understood him, he argued. A dry “right” was a reliable comeback for her. But of course with his pointing it out she started looking for it more. This secretly decent person he went on about had to exist somewhere.The first time she saw a sliver of Butch’s supposed good side was during Parents Day. 

Parents day centered around it’s namesake. Parents. Watching them try to squeeze themselves into tiny seats was absolutely hilarious. 

“Parents are crucial. Up until your legal age they are considered your backbone. They offer a sense of protection and support no one else can and they often represent and stand up for best interest. Just as you are a reflection of them they are a reflection of you.” Mr. Botch droned as he read from a dog-eared pamphlet. He remarked that some were on their best behavior before cutting a glare at table four where Butch, Paul and Wally sat with their squished in parents.

With the protocol out of the way it was time for presentations. One by one each student went up to their parent, introduced them and let them tell everyone what cog they were in the well oiled machine known as the vault. Then it was her turn. She had nothing to be nervous about initially. Her dad was the only doctor in the vault whom had dealt with a lot of “boo-boos.” His position was well-respected. However one question in particular blew a hole through her once secure confidence.

“Where’s your mommy?”

In hindsight it was a simple question but all she could do was look at her father. They’d talked about her mom before that. Her dad made sure he’d never heard the end of her so it wasn’t uncharted territory, just not never publicly acknowledged.

“Christine!” Her mother hissed.

Viola felt the room study her the way a scientist would study a microorganism.

“What? Don’t you want to know too? Where’s her mommy?”

“It’s bad to single people out like that.”

“ It’s not just her. Amata doesn’t have a mommy and Butch doesn’t have a daddy.” She thought on this for a moment then her face lit up. “Do you think one of them can get together so they can have a mommy and daddy?”

A faint giggle trickled from table four.

Wally had his palm over his mouth yet his eyes were glowing with glee. Paul’s eyes flitted from between his two friends. Looking small as ever, Butch seethed. His breaths were heavy and his copper skin burned red.

Mr. Brotch thought to curtail that imminent explosion. “Now, now. Everybody calm down. Fingers to your lips.”

“Butchie?” Ms. Deloria said.

Overwhelmed, Butch shoved away from the table and stomped off and out into the hallway.

“Butchie! Wait!” She lumbered after him.

Mr. Brotch sighed before looking over Viola and her father. “If you need a moment with Viola. You might as well go out there too. In fact she can go home if you’d like. I’ll mark her down for a half a day and stop by with her homework later.

  
As they left they heard Mr. Botch call Christine’s name with a steely frustration and the remaining kids ohed and ahed at the spectacle.

Her father kneeled down so he was eye with level her. “ How are you feeling, Sweetie?”

“I wish I did I have a mommy.” She said, fighting the tremble of her in her voice.

“You do. She’s always here. With you and me.”

“But why isn’t she here?”

He searched for the right words. “ She’d hold you tight if she could. I bet seeing you all teary like this breaks her heart.”

She wiped her tears back with the heel of her palms.

“Do you want to go home?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, give your dad a hug.”

She wrapped her arms around as much of him as she could with her small frame.

“Let’s just go home, Ma.”

Upon pulling back from the hug, she saw Butch avoiding his mothers gaze as she tried to soothe him.

“It’s alright, Butchie I wasn’t mad at what he said.” She said in that by then familiar slurred speech of hers.

“I want to go home.”

“But your friends are in there. You can’t leave yet.”

“Wake up will you? I can’t go back in there.”

“ Why? What’s making my baby antsy?”

He responded with silence.

Butch whirled around and stomped off. 

Nothing short of an apology would make her forgive Butch for all the bullying he and his pals. There wasn’t any excusing his behavoirs, but after that day he started make a little sense to her.


End file.
